Chapter Text
It was as if her body moved on it’s own, her mind no longer controlled her actions in that moment. She did not know if it was that she couldn’t control it, or if she just did not want to stop by simply thinking about it too much. She could stop, she told herself, she could if she really wanted to. She also couldn’t stop. Her muscles, her arms, her legs-- they moved on their own, moving in motions that she used to practice for hours; until her feet hurt and her legs could almost no longer support her.
She was in much better health then. She would have never smoked or go days without eating or sleeping. Things have changed, made her bitter and spiteful, wrathful and depressed. Too many things have changed, only for the worse, but she cannot really remember having an opinion. Time has dulled what has happened, how she had felt.
Images of crimson blood and torn flesh flashed in her mind, causing her to pause her rehearsed actions, and look into her tired, numb reflection in the spotless mirror. Dark hair and skinny fingers, yellow eyes and lilac skin stretched across a thin frame was as all she could see. She was brought back to where she was-- feeling regret, something she would never admit, causing her to halt her dancing and turn away from the large mirror. She narrowed her cold gaze at the woman standing in the doorway, crossing her arms as she slightly tugged on her long sleeves to bring them further down her wrist to cover as much skin as possible. She watched the other woman enter the room, walking with a small smirk on her pale features.
“Old habits die hard, don’t they, Lacroix?”
“Dr. O'Deorain…” Widowmaker replied, her mouth forming a straight line as she spoke with sharp tongue. “I do not remember inviting you in.”
“Ballet, so beautiful, but a waste for you-- there is simply no need.” A slight pause from Moira as she casts as smug glance over her shoulder towards her subject, her patient, as she turned to now fully face the woman. “Perhaps something you cannot help, something left behind from my treatments, something that needs to be… removed from your subconscious?”
“That cannot be the reason why you are here.” Widowmaker replied with a cold tone and even chillier of a gaze.
“You are correct.” The doctor chuckled lightly as she succeeded in bothering the struggling spider underneath her feet. “I am here by the request of Akande, he wished for me to check up on you.”
“How wonderful.” She replied with heavy disdain as she moved towards the window of her flat, looking out at the snow falling slowly, lazily upon the streets of Paris. “I am fine. Do you have any missions for me?”
“I feel that maybe you are not as fine as you say you are, Lacroix.” Moira countered, looking around the apartment and spotting many empty mugs and traces of cigarette ends sitting in various areas. “How have you been sleeping? Eating?”
“Well enough.”
“Sore subject there?” Moira asked, smiling wickedly to herself as she cleared her throat despite nothing being stuck there. “Look, I care about you, Lacroix. Of course I do, I created you and just look at yourself; slowly destroying what I worked so hard to make. Such a pity.”
Widowmaker cast glance over her shoulder as the other spoke, no emotion written on her features. She was tired, she was exhausted, and she just wanted the woman to leave. She flicked her eyes down to her hands, and turned towards geneticist to see if she was done talking. She rose an eyebrow at the tall agent’s words; she didn’t care about her or her well-being, she only cared about what she had created and wanted to maintain it’s upkeep-- as if she was a machine that needed a tune up.
She couldn’t believe a single word that the other had said, all of it being for show and completely dismissable, but even the one who said it knew that. They both knew it meant absolutely nothing, just to establish that she wanted her monster to take better care of herself. She sighed at this and walked over towards her chair, sitting down and crossing her legs while staring coldly at the doctor before her. She frowned slightly and tapped her manicured fingers on the arms of the chair while her other hand reached for her pack of cigarettes. She ceased her tapping and picked up the lighter as well, lighting the end of her cigarette and putting it to her lips to take a long breath in before speaking.
“You have a mission for me, why else would you be here.” Widowmaker said, smoke spilling from her lips effortlessly as she spoke. “Tell me then leave.”
“Tsk.” Moira replied, tapping her foot angrily on the wooden floor and crossing her arms for a short moment before tossing them to her sides. “Tonight, Cabaret Luna-- you will know who your target is just by looking at them.”
Widowmaker took another drag of her cigarette, nodding slightly to the other woman in acknowledgement and turned to look out the window once more. She thought the meeting place was a rather uninspired and tacky location, but she supposed she could deal with it. She moved the cigarette from her mouth and tapped it over a tray, shaking loose the ash on the end. She flicked her gaze back to the doctor who had moved towards the doorway, yet still held a judgmental look on her features. It annoyed the sniper as she raised a brow, as if asking if she had something else to say before closing the door behind her on her way out.
“Take better care of yourself, your life may not matter to you, but it matters to me more than anyone else.” Moira narrowed her gaze as her voice grew grave and chilling, rather horrifying and dark. “I made you, I can take that away whenever I please. There is so much worse I could have done. I own you… you are mine.”
Widowmaker did not back down in her glare towards the other until she left, sighing to herself as she breathed out quietly, “No.” She stood from her chair, put out her cigarette in the tray, and headed towards the door, pausing in her actions as she heard the other woman step off the last stair to her apartment. She placed a hand on the lock and turned it, walking back towards her large, expansive ballet mirror. She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes, taking her body through the motions once more, continuing on what she had been doing before being interrupted and what she could remember. She brought herself up on pointe and took graceful steps coming into a spin on one foot as she opened her eyes, slowing down as her expression grew more tired.
She brought her arms back to her body and stepped down onto the flat of her feet, shaking her head lightly and moving towards her half spent cigarette. She picked up her lighter, bringing the cigarette to her mouth and lighting it as she stepped out onto her balcony. She took a long, deep drag of smoke and blew it out her mouth slowly, watching the falling snow fly through the trails of smoke. She rested her arms on the railing and took a deep breath in of the cold air, a slight, chilly breeze moving her ponytail around and creating tendrils of inky purple behind her as she took another drag. She was exhausted, but she always was now-- everyday and every sleepless night, she was exhausted.
She turned away from the balcony and closed the doors behind her with a swift motion that blew out her cigarette, prompting her to throw it into the nearest mug. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and walked to her kitchen, setting her kettle on the stove, already containing water from past and frequent use. She crossed her arms while she waited for the water to boil, but furrowed her brows and turned the stove off, reaching for a cup from the cabinet and filling it halfway with water. She brought it to her lips and basically swallowed the water in one mouthful, setting the cup in the sink to be washed later. She turned and headed towards her bedroom to get ready for her mission, she was eager for it, ready for it-- but she wanted to do something that made her feel alive.